Bowing to the ***** god,
I lived like a pleasure
seeking missile, propelled
toward all things ME.
Empty as a carcass.
Hungry as a desert.
I didn't see the
strawberry moon of
summer.
It was me and the
Ferryman, until the
river ran dry.
Eternal winter for
the soul.

And then

A revolution in my
being.
A total shift in
my values and
perception.
The Creator purchased
my dilapidated heart.
He moved in and lives
there still.

My home, on the outside
might look like
a shack to some, but inside
it's a mansion with the
most sublime bread you
ever tasted.
Fruit trees in every room.

Generous and kind acts,
What is charity to you?
Give away my thing,
Now is it right to call it mine?

Service to other, who are we
servicing really?
What is the true nature
helping is being kind simply.

Toppled by feeling good,
Is it for others or self?
Elated within
Reminiscing with pride.

Do you wish to give away all of yours
To your kin or strangers?
trinkets of mine, now owned by so many
The resource from earth, passes on.

With our last breath, who are we
donating skin and eyes, the body will pass on
Who am I, a soul?
This life ends, but possession remains
What becomes of me, where do I go?

A man, dejected
with a broken heart,
snapped all the ties
from his world,
roamed about places
one to the next
in search of peace.

One day he found himself
in a distant Fairy Land.
The fairies were surprised
to find him amongst them.
One fairy asked him
what he wanted.
Taken aback by the question
he said ,"A new heart."
The fairy said,"Don't worry, we do have a heart shop."
She took him there.
There he saw all kinds of hearts-
Some made of gold, some of silver,
and some normal too.

In another corner he saw
a collection of broken hearts
beautifully kept.
Out of curiosity he asked the fairy
why they kept those broken hearts.
She smiled and said,
"They are the epic story tellers."
Amazed by her words,
he left with his broken heart
back to his world.

a fish bone
stuck in your throat
that you have to get along with it

I am so tired…. But Its not a lack of sleep. Its emotional, mental, physical the loss runs deep.
Standing on the edge of hope and hopeless choosing between blinding pain and numbness.
My head hurts, my stomach is twisted in knots. My body has a physical response  and i am not calling the shots.
Wish i could turn it off but the damage is done.
I have changed irrevocably from the battles lost and won.
Tiny fissures left open scream out and bleed. At best i slap on a bandaid ignoring the real need.
At times i stop and survey the path i am leaving of blood and tears. But i force myself forward in spite of the fears.
Just Keep moving ignore the pain, the alarms screaming survival is the game.
Dodging bullets, walking on eggshells, being a wall and a shield. Trying not to lose myself in the mass casualties on the field.
I feel the heavy pressure of walking this line. Burdened by a choice between true peace and everything is fine.
If only i was the only one who had to pay for my choices. But i bear the weight of those other helpless voices.

messages in bottles
thrown into the sea
bobbing along waves